


All in due (run)time

by shionch



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shionch/pseuds/shionch
Summary: Mr. Robot is a jerk, but he knows how to push Tyrell just right.





	All in due (run)time

He needed an ally. If not someone loyal and reliable, like he’d thought Angela had been, then — someone he could control. Someone easy to manipulate.

Tyrell.

He had a plan. It was easy; it was always easy with Tyrell. The poor psycho was almost too easy to push and bend to his will, and he almost felt sorry for that sad, pathetic, delusional man. No, really, he would have, if the guy wasn’t a mass murderer.

So, yeah, almost.

He knew he needed to anger Tyrell. It was Tyrell’s weakness, his bug, his runtime error; an agitated Tyrell was Tyrell ready to get hacked. Hurt him and comfort him, crash his system; then insert whatever code he wished into Tyrell’s programming. Easy.

And, man, he angered him — alright. He walked into the widower’s house and insulted his dead wife, how was that for anger-inducing pain? Marvelous. Tyrell responded, predictably, like a string that was pulled — he snapped, he attacked, his system crashing, unable to process non parcelable input. Anger was Tyrell’s firewall, his immunity system; he knew that because it was his, too.

That’s why he knew how to create the perfect malware.

People who get violent get that way because they can’t communicate… Did he said that to Elliot? Or did Elliot said that to him? No matter.

Induce anger, then teach to communicate.

Easy…

The problem was, they were interrupted. Tyrell didn’t finish reading his input stream: an exception sneaked up on their process. Wrong thread. Tyrell’s admin showed up to cut their connection.

But he knew how to catch that exception, to make it work.

“The FBI…” Tyrell looked at him. “The Dark Army has a man on the inside.”

“Keep talking,” he ordered.

Tyrell, of course, was happy to oblige, talking on and on about the man, the threats… then he started crying. Typical. But it was the perfect breakpoint to pause and resume the programming, to show compassion after bringing pain. An opening. Vulnerability.

“You didn’t know your wife was dead, huh?” he offered to start.

“I told you, don’t,” Tyrell sobbed. “You don’t get to mention her. She’s dead because of… because…”

“Because you chose me over her,” he finished the sentence, and it startled Tyrell. Wide-eyed, shivering, Tyrell stared at him. He shrugged. “It happens. People fall in and out of love all the time. I don’t blame you.”

“No,” Tyrell said. “You do. You must. Your plan, our plan — I changed it. I took control. I hurt you. I must have!”

“Ah, so you wanted to hurt me…” he paused, then shrugged again. “Well, it’s all water under the bridge now. I’ll grant you the benefit of the doubt. They held you captive, after all, they had your wife and son. I understand. I have a son, too.”

“Wait…” Tyrell blinked. “Hold on a moment. You have a son?”

He blinked, too. Did he just say that out loud? Shit.

“My dog.” Elliot had a dog, right? A female dog, but Tyrell didn’t know that. Did he? “Yeah, yeah, I know. Disrespectful, blah, blah. But, hey, I went to prison to save that motherfucker, I think I’m allowed some sentimentality.”

Tyrell looked stunned for some reason.

“I didn’t think you’d care about… anything like that. Or anyone. I didn’t know you had a dog. You never… you’ve never told me anything.”

“Yeah, well. Feelings are messy, and work is work.” Yes, good recovery. Whew, the idiot bought it. Whole-fucking-sale. He leaned forward for emphasis, pressing his palms on the kitchen table. “I need you focused, Tyrell.”

Tyrell smiled. Actually, his face lit up like a Christmas tree; then he started laughing.

“You need me.” Tyrell muttered. “You… need… me.”

Oh, right. It was what the guy wanted to hear, wasn’t it? Tyrell Wellick reveled in being needed, it made him feel important. That poor attention seeker looking for love in all the wrong places. Desperate. Pathetic.

He decided to play along.

“Of course I need you. Now it’s you and me, remember? Us against the world. We’re going to destroy the Dark Army, expose Price and his accomplices, and we’re going to get your son back. Okay? You’re good with that?”

“Yes,” Tyrell breathed out, looking at him in reverence, enthralled. “Tell me what to do.”

He smiled.

“Come here.” He didn’t need the psycho to go off on his own again, after all. This time? He’ll make him remember who’s the leader and who’s the follower. “Take off your tie.”

Tyrell did, no questions asked.

He took the tie and then he wrapped it around Tyrell’s head, blindfolding him.

“We have actual blindfolds, you know…” Tyrell started saying, but he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Shh. It’s better this way. Trust me.”

It worked. Tyrell stayed silent as he unbuttoned his shirt and unfastened his belt; stayed silent as he used that very belt to tie Tyrell’s hands behind his back.

“Remember this,” he said.

Then he took Tyrell’s face in his hands, but just as he was about to lean in… his vision… grew blurry…

Elliot blinked. Who..? What was going on, why was he holding — Tyrell..?

“…Elliot?” Tyrell whispered, as if sensing hesitation.

He shook his head. No… not yet. Still him. But they didn’t have much time.

“That’s enough for tonight,” a quick pat on the head, and he untied Tyrell’s hands. “Gotta go. Until next time.”

“Elliot, wait!”

Tyrell took off his makeshift blindfold. But he waived the sucker adieu.

“Patience, my friend. All in due time.”

And then he was off.


End file.
